


eternally yours

by xnowimnothing



Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, This is basically me being goth on main, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xnowimnothing/pseuds/xnowimnothing
Summary: Ricky knows the way.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	eternally yours

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what it is with me and Miw members as vampires I'm sorry

Ricky knows the way. 

The night is particularly starry. The crescent moon is the only distinguishable form in that heap of bright little dots that is the sky. 

It's quiet. The sounds of the city are far away, a white noise almost imperceptible, as if they came from another dimension, from a place completely foreign as compared to here. What is here? Here is a expanse of grass, where the air is cool and pleasant; an uncontaminated place directly on the threshold of the woods. 

It's exactly the woods that Ricky is about to enter. Ricky knows the way. He travels it often at nightfall. 

On the first step amidst the trees, the smell of musk inebriates his senses, pungent and familiar. The trees, so tall, they all look the same and every path seems to be as good as any; only his footsteps disrupt the order of an immaculate silence, cadenced and creaking footsteps on dead leaves. Deliberate footsteps. 

The footsteps are deliberate because Ricky knows the way to the rose garden, that rose garden in the heart of the woods that no one talks about in the city. The darkness doesn't bother him, Ricky could get to it with his eyes closed. 

The rose garden is pretty much unknown. Ricky wonders how it's possible that no one has ever ventured into the woods far enough to find it, he wonders how the uncontaminated beauty of a smilar place could go unnoticed. It is a strange, alien beauty indeed, that often, to Ricky's eyes, shapes up to be a dream. 

Dreamlike is the sight unveiling in front of him when he finally reaches it, in the dark heart of the night: it shows off to him in all its splendor, his eyesight rescued by the many candles hung from the trees all around the glade or fitted in the roots and the trunks. The first time, he was afraid. Lit candles in the woods? Unattended, at night? It didn't sound like a particularly clever idea, at least until he realized that the fire that fed their flames couldn't ignite anything. It wasn't a fire like the others. 

It's not a source of warmth. If you touch it, you don't get burned (Ricky passed his finger on it, once) and most importantly, the light it emanates doesn't have that hue, that tinge that's yellow, red, warm. It's a purely white light, almost cold, that creates a striking contrast with the shadows it casts, black as the ace of spades and dark as void. 

That fire shines on the roses, giving wonderful and intense colors to their petals: rich, deep red like that of refined wine; dense and delicate cream, like that of a high patisserie pastry just taken out of the oven; antique rose, gentle and elegant like that of a decoration of an ancient royal palace. Perhaps, these flowers aren't flowers like the others, either. 

“Always on time,” a male voice, behind him, preceded only by an imperceptible rustle of the fronds. Imperceptible to the ear of many, but not to Ricky's, used to it by now. 

“You know how I feel about punctuality,” Ricky answers, not turning to face him. His eyes linger on the red roses in front of him, his fingers brush the petals. “For me, it's a matter of respect.” 

In a moment, two cold hands materialize on his hips. Ricky leans into the touch when he feels a body pressed against his back. He cannot feel a heartbeat. 

“Chris…” he whispers, closing his eyes when the arms of the man behind him wrap him in an embrace. Safe. 

“Hello, my love.” 

Ricky turns around in his arms, and instantly those brown eyes take his breath away. Chris smiles sweetly, bringing a hand to his face to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. 

“You look very good,” Ricky says, blushing a little. He's sincere: Chris is handsome in his black tuxedo, an attire that faithfully reflects his innate elegance. His long, silky hair is brought back, loose; his very pale skin accentuates the black and purple eyeshadow around his eyes as well as the black lipstick underneath his piercings. Ricky's heart skips a beat, maybe two. 

“You look gorgeous as well,” Chris says, voice low and sensual. “Come with me?” Before he's even finished asking, Ricky's hand is in his. 

“Only if you kiss me first,” Ricky says, bites his lip. His eyes are locked with Chris's, and Ricky knows his carnal desire is blatant, but it's not like composure is something he has when Chris is around, anyway. The latter smiles, a little amused, a little lustful himself, and then grants Ricky's wish. He brings his face to his, leaning in slightly, and in this long moment Ricky's heart seems like it wants to break through his ribcage. Chris's breath is warm on his lips and for a split second Chris curles his upper lip, uncovering his teeth; Ricky only catches a glimpse of his sharp fangs, but it's enough for him to exhale that sigh he didn't even know he was holding. Soon after, Chris kisses him, holding his hand even tighter, while the other cups the side of Ricky's face. Ricky can't resist and clings even tighter to his cold body, trying to the best of his possibilities to become one with him; only then he'd feel like they're close enough. 

When they part and Ricky opens his eyes, it doesn't take much for his eyesight to get used to the unusual light of the candles in the rose garden. They illuminate Chris's figure in patches, and his beauty is even more mystic and sinister in this dim game of light and shadow. 

“So?” 

“Let's go.” 

Ricky knows the way, but he isn't going to let go of Chris's hand that's leading him to their destination, tenderly intertwined to his. Red roses delimit the path they're walking on either side, on the ground, and they're interrupted by candles lighting up the way for Ricky (Chris doesn't need it). Chris's pace is fast; he quivers, anticipating. Ricky keeps up with him, even when his heartbeat starts pumping in his ears. They're in the woods again, amidst trees and dead leaves and moss, until the path opens up to another clearing. There aren't roses here, but there are way more candles. They're mostly gathered by the center of the glade, all of them rigorously lit, shining that strange white light that creates shadows so black. Chris halts, and when Ricky halts next to him, the first grabs his face in his hands and kisses him sweetly; Ricky smiles with his lips against Chris's, hand on his chest, where his heart was supposed to be. 

Chris starts venturing into the clearing again, and Ricky follows him, until they reach the area of concentration of candles. They're all around a coffin made of dark wood, open, covered in burgundy velvet on the inside. Chris shoves himself inside, holds his hand out to Ricky; Ricky takes it and gets inside as well, and when they lie down, Ricky holds on tight to Chris's chest, snuggling up to him. 

“Eternally yours,” Chris says, tenderly caressing Ricky's hair. 

“Eternally yours,” Ricky responds, and receives a kiss on his forehead before Chris brings the lid over the coffin, darkness finally enveloping them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so. I had written this in my language that's why it's so different from my usual style. I'm not sure about the translation. Should I make a story out of this? Do you like this aesthetic? Let me know what you think, I'm totally clueless. 
> 
> title is a song by motionless in white 
> 
> xnowimnothing.tumblr.com


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